The dharma altar stood with imposing dignity, incense curling in wisps.
Ziyuan presided as the Capital Management Master, with his entourage trailing behind him.
Murong Feng, the Patrol Housekeeper with green eyes and square pupils; Lu Qingshan, the diligent Estate Steward; Dao Wen, a guest steward with a kindly demeanor and white hair; and the chief and deputy archivists of the institute—these were all members of Ziyuan's trusted cadre.
"Swear by blood and vow to the heavens. The matters of today must remain secret—if any should divulge, let ghosts and gods devour their flesh, and let their souls sink to the Netherworld."
Everyone dripped a drop of essence blood into the bowl, which Ziyuan used to prepare talismans before burning them. The rising smoke dissipated into the void.
This marked the success of their oath.
"Alright. From now on, we are allies," Ziyuan declared.
Murong Feng spoke excitedly, "My lord, shall we make our move?"
